


beside every man (an even greater woman)

by alsoalsowik



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, annie is donna, but like brief mentions of the actual event, jeff is josh, jxaappreciationweek2016, mentions of a shooting, west wing au!, what more can i say?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7789852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alsoalsowik/pseuds/alsoalsowik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff walks into the storeroom currently functioning as his office, does a quick scan, then turns right on his heels and leaves. There’s only one storeroom in the whole building, so he’s definitely in the right place, but…she? Is not. A few moments later, Jeff hears the quick click-clack of a woman in heels, and lo and behold, the woman from inside his office (or at least, his walled off area with a desk) is in front of him.</p>
<p>Even in he black pumps, she only reaches his chin. Jeff looks down, frowns for a moment, then asks, “Who the hell are you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	beside every man (an even greater woman)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first j/a fic, written for the jeff x annie appreciation week on tumblr! feel free to check me out there (baenakinskywalker) to drop a line or a prompt! i hope you enjoy this, and, as always, comments are welcome and appreciated :D

Jeff walks into the storeroom currently functioning as his office, does a quick scan, then turns right on his heels and leaves. There’s only one storeroom in the whole building, so he’s definitely in the right place, but…she? Is not. A few moments later, Jeff hears the quick click-clack of a woman in heels, and lo and behold, the woman from inside his office (or at least, his walled off area with a desk) is in front of him.

 

Even in he black pumps, she only reaches his chin. Jeff looks down, frowns for a moment, then asks, “Who the hell are you?”

 

She seems a little taken aback by his language, judging by the step backwards she takes and the color that rises to her cheeks. “Annie Edison. I’m…I’m your new assistant.”

 

It’s a statement, not a question, which catches Jeff off guard. “You are?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Okay,” Jeff says, elongating the o. “And who hired you?”

 

“Rich?” she answers, and this time it’s a question. “Sorry,” she starts, “it’s just that I only talked to him for a minute, and then he told me to go wait for you in here, and—wait. You didn’t approve this. You’re not going to fire me, are you?”

 

“You talk fast,” is all he says, but in his mind, he’s cursing the everloving fuck out of Rich. Yes, Jeff needs a new assistant, and yes, sooner is preferable to later, but. There are certain things a man should be able to decide for himself, like who’s going to be working with him for the next (hopefully) 4 years. And Jesus, this girl looks like she could be a teenager, what with her bright blue eyes and dark shiny hair. He has to wonder where the hell Alan even found her.

 

Jeff realizes that she’s been talking while he mentally flips Rich off, so he only catches the end of her tirade. 

 

“…and I graduated at the top of my class with incredible recommendations, and I pride myself on being organized and an overachiever, and did I mention I graduated undergrad in three years?”

 

“Please take a breath. You do know how, right?”

 

She pauses. “Sorry, Mr. Winger.” Jeff can see the fire in her eyes, and something terrified under that. The girl looks like she’s ready to kill for this job, and he’s got to admit, from what he’s just heard, she’s impressive. And she could be worse to look at. (Hey, call him a pig, but he knows well and good they’ll be spending a lot of time together.)

 

“Dear God, please just call me Jeff.”

 

“I don’t…I don’t think that’s appropriate,” she says, then stops again. “Wait. So you’re not firing me?”

 

Jeff grins. “Nah, I’ll let you stick it out. If you’re on team Hawthorne, you’re good in my book. Okay, kid?”

 

Annie smiles up at him, bright and beaming, and when Jeff’s gut turns over, he wonders if he’s made a terrible mistake. 

 

**&**

 

Senator Hawthorne announces Alan Conner as his running mate, and Jeff nearly pukes. That son of a bitch is just so _smarmy._ Sure, he’s a good face. Sure, he’s got good background. Sure, he’s even got halfway decent polling numbers. None of that changes the fact that he’s faker than a three dollar bill. Men like him make up the vast majority of politicians, and Jeff might even be characterized as one of them on occasion, but that doesn’t change the fact that he wants better for this campaign. 

 

The silver lining is that Annie’s actually working out wonderfully. She’s always two steps ahead of him, which makes him wonder if they should switch roles. In all honesty, she’s smarter than him. Easily. 

 

The Senator still has the utmost confidence in him, though, which makes it all better. He’s a damn shoe in for Chief of Staff. 

 

**&**

 

Things are going absolutely fantastic with Annie, so _of course_ Jeff finds a way to fuck it up. 

 

They’ve been working together for six or seven months, and tensions are running higher than high. So high, Jeff can’t even spare the brain power to think of another word. The other side’s just released an attack ad claiming Senator Hawthorne’s been divorced _seven_ times, and he doesn’t know what to do. Troy and Abed—the Dream Team, they call themselves—have been going back and forth for days trying to find a way to spin the false rumor. 

 

“You could always say he’s more committed to his job than women,” Annie offers while they’re walking to a meeting for damage control. “Y’know, if it were true.”

 

“Yeah,” Jeff says, “and while we’re at it, we’ll just confirm he kicks nuns on the regular. The thing is, we need to make this go away faster than the Christian right can get their old-ass hands on it.”

 

“You’re always demonizing them, Jeff, and I think it’s going to bite you in the rear end someday,” she says. “They have beliefs just like everyone else, and it’s not fair of you to outright condemn all of them for that fact.”

 

“What do you care? You’re Jewish. Plus,” he adds, “it’s not like this is your fire to put out.”

 

Annie’s quiet the rest of the way down the hall, and when they get to the Senator’s office, she doesn’t sit beside him. Probably has something to do with the way he discounted her in the hallway, but Jeff tries not to focus on that. He’s got other things to worry about—namely, the Senator and his seven fictitious ex-wives.

 

“So,” Senator Hawthorne starts, “what are we doing about this?”

 

Troy offers up an attack ad _attack ad_ , wherein the whole campaign denounces the idea of negative ads altogether, and it falls flat. Abed adds that they need to remain strong through this turbulent time and stay on message above all else. “Just remember,” he says, “free community college and increased welfare payments!”

 

“What if we just ignore it?” Jeff asks. “To  the outside it’ll read like we aren’t even acknowledging that…tabloid trash. Then _we_ leak that we’re not taking it seriously. Make it seem like we’re above it.”

 

“Interesting idea, Jeffery,” the Senator says.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jeff can see Annie raise her hand, notepad held tight in the other.

 

Uh-oh.

 

“You don’t have to wait your turn to talk, Miss Edison. That’s not really my style,” Hawthorne says, looking bemused.

 

“Of course. My bad.” She takes a breath—quite the rarity, if Jeff’s being honest—and says, “I think Jeff’s idea will backfire.”

 

Dammit.

 

“And why do you think that?”

 

“Because if I were reading that kind of story, I’d know it’s crap. I’d know that you’re avoiding making a statement because you don’t know what to say. I’m kind of your target demographic right now, millennial just out of college with little prior voting experience, right?”

 

The group nods, except for Jeff.

 

“You’re forgetting the most important part. This group, we’re intelligent. We won’t just read everything and believe it with no qualm; we grew up with the internet and ability to question anything! They’ll see through it, I know they will. We need to address this head on.”

 

Okay, maybe Annie has a point, and maybe his idea was a cop out, and, yeah, maybe this millennial kid knows what the hells he’s talking about, but Jesus. Hawthorne’s smiling and nodding and saying crap like, “Oh, I like this one. Don’t you let go of her, Jeff,” and Rich’s in the corner smiling at his incompetence, and Jeff’s a little pissed. 

 

This whole Chief of Staff thing works a lot better if he’s the one coming up with the good ideas. Jeff makes the monumental mistake of telling Annie just that, only sort of meaning it, while they’re walling out of the meeting, her all proud and excited.

 

She stops right in her tracks. 

 

“What is the matter with you?” Annie nearly spits. The excitement and joy from earlier are gone from her face, and she looks supremely angry. “Come on, answer me! You’ve been a real jerk the past few days, and I think I deserve to know why.”

 

“You _deserve_ to know why? You really think you deserve anything from me? Jesus, Annie, you’re my assistant!”

 

His irritation comes out of nowhere, Jeff thinks, but it’s too late to laugh it off and pat her on the head and say, “You know I’m just messing with you, kid.” Instead, he just glares down at her, trying his hardest to get distracted by her tight little sweater.

 

“I _know_ I’m your assistant! You haven’t let me forget it since I started working for you. And I don’t mind, because everyone starts somewhere, but for God’s sake, Jeff, I’m good at what I do!”

 

She really, really is, and for a moment, Jeff wonders if that’s why he’s so ticked off. She’s an amazing worker, only just out of college, and she’s already got a presumptive nominee for President of the United States listening. This has been Jeff’s career for _years_ , this is the thing he’s supposed to be good at, and now some twenty-one year old is showing him up. 

 

But see, that would require caring, and that isn’t really the Winger style, so he shoots back a condescending, “Yeah, Annie, you’re good. For a _kid_.”

 

She up and leaves then, hurt showing all over her face. Jeff watches her all the way to his office (where she’s got her own desk tucked in the corner) where she slams the door. It’s loud and ugly and seems to bring him out of whatever douchebag haze he’s been in for the past half hour. 

 

He goes after her, but Annie’s already packing her stuff into a cardboard box Jeff has no idea where she got. There’s the plant Britta gave her, and the personalized stationary she’s been using since day one, and Jeff feels pretty bad. 

 

“Annie, wait.”

 

“I get other offers, you know!” She won’t look at him while she’s packing, but he can hear how mad she is. “I mean, I get it. I’m a _child._ But did you know that Pelton’s team has made me no fewer than 3 job offers?” 

 

Jeff’s heart sinks faster than the Titanic. “So now you’re…” he trails.

 

“Not going to take one. I mean, I have my morals. But maybe” Annie says, unplugging her laptop, “they’d give me a little more credit over there.” She pauses, then looks him in the eye. “Y’know, Jeff, I admire you a lot. I wanted to work for this campaign because I believe in what Senator Hawthorne does. But I also need to feel respected. And right now, by you, I don’t.”

 

“Dammit, I didn’t mean to—Annie…I really _do—_ You _know_ that this campaign is better with you,” he says, but he can tell she’s not listening, not really. 

 

“The campaign did pretty well before me, so I’m sure it’ll do fine without me here. Besides,” she adds, putting her monogramed stapler on top of everything else in her box, “This’ll give me an opportunity to patch things up with Vaughn. Me being all the way in DC has been hard for him.”

 

Suddenly Jeff feels a wave of disgust crash over him. He’s heard about Vaughn before—Annie’s surfer-stoner boyfriend from somewhere in Colorado—and doesn’t like him one bit. “Annie, if you’re leaving, don’t do it because your weed loving boyfriend feels threatened by your success. Have a little more self respect than that, I beg of you.”

 

That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. And okay, maybe it did come off as condescending, but Jeff really _doesn’t_ want her making decisions based on some dumbass from 420 Cannabis Road, CO. She’s smart and driven and he doesn’t want to see another woman like that get sucked out of a career for a bad decision. 

 

“Seriously, Jeff? You _seriously_ think that little of me? Well, if you hadn’t figured it out yet, that’s _not_ why I’m leaving.”

 

He doesn’t really need to hear her say the words, but when she says them anyway, loud and incredibly _in his face_ , Jeff stops. He lets her finish packing, lets her leave the office, even lets her hand him a letter of resignation—noting the fact that it’s been prewritten and sealed. 

 

Annie leaves the building, and Jeff doesn’t do anything to stop her.

 

**&**

 

She’s back two and a half weeks later, with an apology (even though he should be the one apologizing) and her arm in a cast.

 

“I was in a car accident,” is all Annie gives in the way of an explanation. Jeff tries really hard to believe her. Vaughn doesn’t and hasn’t seemed like the abusive type, but between being an adult in the real world and a person with a law degree, he knows it’s possible no matter what.

 

They don’t really talk about why she left. Or why she’s back. Or why she doesn’t keep a picture of Vaughn by her stapler anymore. 

 

They just move on. After all, there’s a president to get elected.

 

**&**

 

Seven months later, it’s election day. The whole campaign is a mess, running exit polls and  trying to increase voter turnout as much as is humanly possible in one day. Jeff’s barely left the phone in his office all morning, and it shows. He’s barking orders left and right, and he probably looks like a mad man.

 

Annie walks into their office with a cup of coffee and some advice. “You might want to tone down the crazy,” she offers, handing him the warm mug, “because you’re beginning to scare some of the junior staffers.”

 

The coffee is strong enough to kill, just like Jeff likes it. 

“Annie,” he says, after the first sip, “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but we’re—“

 

“— _tying to elect a president_. Yes, I know,” she finishes. “I’m just saying, some of the girls in personnel are _hiding_ from you.”

 

“And…?”

 

“Well, normally they’re all flocked right outside the office.” She wrinkles her nose and says, “Y’know, because you’re _so hot_ or something.”

 

For the first time all day, Jeff smirks. “I’m hot, am I? And what does my assistant think?”

 

“I think you’re a slacker who really needs a shower.”

 

She’s probably right, but gee, what a way to kick him when he’s stressed. Annie walks out of the office then, with her her hair flipping behind her in the artificial breeze. He watches her leave, longer than is strictly necessary for a boss looking at a subordinate, but then the door slams and it’s back to work. 

 

By lunch Jeff is itching to get this entire day over with, win or lose.  

 

Come nightfall, results start pouring in, and it’s like the lightning round of Jeopardy. 

 

They win New York. 

 

The other guys win Texas.

 

They sweep the entire west coast, and things start to get real.

 

When they win Colorado, Annie jumps in the air, pumping her fists and hollering like Jeff’s never seen before. “We weren’t worried about them, y’know,” he says, grinning. 

 

“I know! But it’s just great to see my home state do its part,” Annie answers, still smiling like she can’t help it. 

 

Almost like in a dream, CNN announces they’ve broken 270, and are well on there way to a pretty big margin of victory. The whole room falls silent. It’s Troy who starts screaming at the top of his lungs, followed by Shirley, and then Britta. The entire staff erupts into cheers that could rival the Superdome, and that’s when it happens.

 

Before he knows what he’s doing, Jeff’s sweeping Annie into his arms and crushing his mouth to hers. She squeaks in surprise against his lips, but doesn’t pull away. In fact, a hand winds up curling in the hair at the base of his neck while he all buts dips her, V-J Day style, in the middle of the celebration. There’s confetti and balloons and champagne, but all Jeff can think about is the warm press of Annie’s body against his, and the way her tongue slides against his own. 

 

It’s completely inappropriate. 

 

What feels like minutes later, but is really only a few seconds, Annie pulls away, one hand firm and flat on his chest. It’s almost more of a push. Her mouth is red from sliding against where he hasn’t shaved in a few days, and her pupils are blown wide. In all honestly, it’s a good look, Annie after being thoroughly kissed. 

 

“Did…did anyone, um, see that?” she asks, flushed and breathing heavy. 

 

“No one who matters.”

 

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I just…we just—How could I let this happen?” She’s rambling a little, gesticulating with her hands and still trying to catch her breath. They can both tell it was a mistake. They've struck such a good balance in the months since she came back, Jeff desperately wants to keep it that way. In a quick decision that could quite frankly be horrible, he decides to take the fall. 

 

He grabs her by the elbow and leads her into an empty office.

 

“Look, Annie, this was my fault. I just,” he pauses, thinking, “got so caught up in the moment, y’know the excitement. It was really just a proximity thing.”

 

If she looks a little hurt at that, Jeff pretends not to notice. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, I would've kissed Abed if he were standing right next to me.”

 

“Of course,” she says, nodding forcefully. “Oh, but—“

 

“Before you ask,” Jeff interrupts, “no. This won’t in any way, shape, or form, affect our working together. I promise.”

 

“Okay,” Annie responds, incredibly serious. She heads for the door with a furrowed brow and crossed arms. Back in the main room, she’ll look out of place.

 

“Wait,” he says, and her head snaps around to look at him. “Don’t look so freaked out. We just elected the next President of the United States. That’s a big fucking deal, kid.”

 

Her frown deepens for a moment, as she considers his words, and then she smiles, slow and blooming. “You’re right. Great job, Jeff. Really, the Senator must be so proud of you and the work you’ve done.”

 

Before she’s totally out the door, Jeff calls, “You mean the President! Not Senator,” and she laughs into the hallway. 

 

That’s when Jeff knows he’s _really_ in trouble.

 

He’s just about to leave and rejoin the party, after a few deep breaths, when Britta sticks her head in the door. “Where the hell’d you slink off to, Winger?”

 

“Just needed a minute. I’m coming right now,” he says, nodding towards the hallway, where the music’s still blaring. “By the way,” he adds, “where’s Hawthorne?”

 

“Talking to Rich about something, I think. He’ll be out to make his remarks in like ten minutes.”

 

“Talking to Rich? About what?”

 

“Hell if I know,” Britta says. “Oh man, but you have to read the speech Troy and Abed put together—it’s off the charts amazing.”

 

Jeff’s mind is still on Hawthorne talking to Rich, so he doesn’t hear the rest of her plug on the victory speech. What could they possibly have to say to each other? He’s the one that introduced the two men in the first place, so it’s not like they go back a long ways. Quite frankly, Jeff’s been waiting for Pierce to call him into the office and name him Chief of Staff since they won California. 

 

“You aren’t listening, are you?” Britta asks, hands on her hips. 

 

“Uh. No. Sorry.”

 

“Well come on,” she says, grabbing at his arm. “The victory speech is about to air, and I’m sure our guys wanna hear it with you. 

 

She drags him out into the main room where he finds Rich standing in front of everyone. Not a great sign. Before he can focus too much on that, though, Jeff spots Annie in a corner talking to some of the other assistants. She looks so _happy,_ talking with big, sweeping hand gestures, and laughing at every joke Quendra’s telling. 

 

Annie notices him looking at her and then looks away, all bashful. He’s about to go talk to her when Troy slings an arm around him, clearly a little hammered, and slurs through something like, “Yo, man, Rich wanted you to go stand up there with him, I think.” Abed shoots Jeff an apologetic look and leads Troy to a glass of water while Jeff makes his way to the front of the room. 

 

“Jeffery.” Rich nods to him before stepping forward and addressing the group. “Congratulations to everyone in the room! Tonight, we accomplished something monumental and great, against all of the odds. Now before the speech starts, I wanted to make this pretty big announcement.

 

“Most of you know that I was speaking to our very own President elect just a while ago—“ the crowd cheers and hollers, and Jeff can’t help but smile, “—and he wanted me to deliver the big news.”

 

Oh, Jeff thinks, so Rich’s going to announce Chief of Staff in Pierce’s absence. He’s still riding high on the thrill of winning (and kissing Annie), so he doesn’t quite get where this is going until it gets there. 

 

Rich grabs Jeff’s hand and raises their arms in victory, and then announces in a voice that’ll haunt him for the rest of his life, “I’d like to introduce the new Deputy Chief of Staff, Jeffery Winger!”

 

There’s more cheering and clapping, but Jeff doesn’t notice. He’s too busy seeing red. 

 

**&**

 

Inauguration goes off without a hitch, and before Jeff knows it, he’s moving into a real office in the west wing of the White House. It’s down the hall from Rich’s, but right beside Troy’s, which connects to Abed’s. Britta’s is more like a waiting room for Shirley’s office, but they both get to use the press room.

 

Annie’s got her own cubicle right outside Jeff’s door, sitting with junior staffers and other senior assistants. By the time Jeff gets around to asking her for resources for their first budget report, she’s already got her plants and notepads artfully arranged. 

 

She gives him a mug that says _world’s best boss_ , but he doesn’t feel like he deserves it. 

 

Not yet, anyway.

 

**&**

 

It’s well into their second year when Annie finally decides to bring up why she came back to work after quitting the campaign. They’re still at the White House at 10 on a Saturday night, neither one of them able to remember the last time they got to sleep at a reasonable hour. All Jeff really wants to do is finish this trade agreement and _leave_ but it’s just not good enough.

 

So they’re siting in his office, both of them, like old times, and the conversation begins to wander. This particular piece of legislation isn’t exciting, so Jeff brings up a baseball game. Annie mentions a movie on Lifetime. Jeff tells her about that TLC show Horrible Boss or Undercover Boss or whatever it’s called that he likes to binge on the weekends. 

 

And so they arrive at the one thing Jeff’s really wanted to bring up since she came back.

 

“Speaking of horrible bosses, Annie, I don’t think I ever really apologized for being one. Y’know, right before primary season?”

 

She nods. “It’s okay—you were under a lot of stress, and I needed to sort through some stuff of my own.”

 

The million dollar question is right on the tip of his tongue, so he shoots. “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you come back?”

 

“Oh,” Annie squeaks. “I haven’t told you?”

 

“No, Annie, can’t say that you have,” Jeff says, glancing at her from his computer screen. She’s looking down, a flush spreading across her cheeks. “So come on, out with it.”

 

“Jeff, I…okay. Well, you know I was dating Vaughn.”

 

“Druggie from somewhere called Greendale, yes. I am familiar with him.”

 

“That’s not very nice. He was only doing it medicinally,” she says, and it almost makes him feel a  little bad. “Well. Anyway, I did get into a car accident.”

 

He remembers the cast she came back in. It was blue, like her eyes, and he’d offered to sign it as his first act of reconciliation. He remembers thinking what the hell could’ve happened, and who could’ve done this to Annie. _His_ Annie. 

 

She continues. “Before you ask, Vaughn had nothing to do with the actual accident. It’s just, on the way to the hospital to pick me up, he stopped to, gosh, I don’t remember, write a poem or sketch the moon or something. Bottom line is he was an hour late.”

 

“To pick his girlfriend up from the hospital? Jesus, that’s weak,” Jeff says, a small weight taken off his shoulders at the knowledge that it wasn’t a _someone_ who put her in that cast. 

 

“Regardless of its strength or lack thereof, I realized that I didn’t want to spend my life with someone that…flighty? So I broke up with him, and decided I’d give your sorry butt another chance.” Annie’s smiling softly now, which makes Jeff smile too. 

 

Annie asks him why, and instead of being honest—y’know, let loose that he’s genuinely happy she’s over the whole incident—he just says, “I’m just _so_ much better than Vaughn.”

 

“Yes,” Annie quips, “please do take comfort in the fact that you have an ounce more understanding of me than my ex.”

 

“I’m in a whole other league, Miss Edison. Vaughn and I aren’t even on the same playing field,” he says, that aptly named devilish grin on his face. 

 

“My hero,” Annie answers, standing from her desk to stretch her legs. 

 

“Look, all I’m saying is if you were in an accident, I sure as hell wouldn’t leave you waiting for an hour at the hospital.” That may have been more than Jeff really wanted to express to his assistant, but it slips out so easily he can’t really bring himself to care. 

 

In true Annie fashion, she puts him to shame when she opens her mouth next. “If you were in an accident I don’t even think I’d stop for traffic signals.” She walks out of the room then, leaving Jeff speechless in her wake. 

 

A week later, that very sentiment gets put to the test when he gets shot. 

 

Jeff gets shot during an attempt on the President’s life, and he honestly thinks he’s done for. Dead. All he can think during the ambulance ride is that someone’s going to have to call his mother and tell her he’s dead. She’ll cry, and there’ll be a funeral, and he’s never going to get the Chief of Staff job, after all.

 

Staring up at the bright white of the hospital ceiling, he can feel himself fading. Everything’s so bright, fuzzy around the edges and shimmery. There’s a warm glow somewhere, and Jeff can feel himself floating toward it, chasing a sound. It sounds like going home, and before the nothingness takes over, he realizes it’s Annie’s voice. 

 

Later, Abed will tell him the bullet nearly hit his lung, and that if not for a kickass team of doctors, he’d be in the ground. That won’t matter.

 

All that will matter is him waking up after god only knows how long (23 and a half hours, Britta will say, looking more concerned than he’s ever seen her) to see Annie slumped over in a chair, mouth wide open and hair in disarray. 

 

Jeff will remember in vivd, technicolor detail, how Annie jolts awake when he coughs, then leaps up and kisses him. It’s short and dry and really just a press of lips against his, but her hands are cool on his face and her thumbs rub his jaw almost instinctively. 

 

She pulls away with a start, cheeks a flaming red that he’s never seen before. Red’s a good color on her, he decides then. “I-I shouldn’t have…I’m so sorry,” Annie squeaks, staring at a spot on the floor like she’s trying to burn a hole in it with her eyes. 

 

“Annie,” he croaks, “have you been here all night?”

 

She looks up, more timid than he’s seen her…ever, really, and nods. “They said it was bad. So I wasn’t going to leave you here alone. But,” she adds, talking faster, “I’m so sorry I just…I mean, I shouldn’t have…it was completely inappropriate!”

 

“Listen, I’m on a lot of pain medicine. I think.”

 

“You are,” Annie confirms.

 

“Exactly,” he starts, “so there’s a really good chance I won’t even remember that. Don’t beat yourself up.” A lie, but a necessary one.

 

“Can I…?” Annie asks, motioning to him. He nods, and she moves forward, leaning in to hug him. She wraps her arms around his middle gently and rests her forehead against his temple. Jeff might be a little loopy, but he still has the cognitive ability to ask himself why on earth he hasn’t been hugging Annie more often. 

 

“I’m really, really glad you’re okay,” she whispers, except to his drug addled mind, it sounds a little like, “I love you,” and he’s not mad at that.

 

There must be more pain killers coursing through Jeff’s blood than he thought, because when she’s finally leaving to go home, he’s pretty sure he hears himself say he loves her. 

 

That one isn’t a lie. 

 

**&**

 

Alan causes problems as the VP. Rich keeps sending Jeff to put out his fires, and it’s really starting to wear on his patience. Between trying to keep Vice President Conner in line and dealing with some seriously screwed up emotions post-shooting, it’s no wonder he cracks a little. 

 

After one particularly sucky day in which the GOP leadership all but promised they wouldn’t confirm any liberal appointment to the bench and the President’s education initiative hit the world’s largest roadblock in the form of there _not actually being enough teachers to carry it out_ , Jeff’s had it. 

 

He punches the wall in his office. Fist through drywall, just like that. 

 

Annie runs into the room faster than he thought she would. “What the hell was that?”

 

“I, uh…and the wall, it’s just kind of—I slipped, and,” he starts, then decides on telling the truth. He takes a breath and says, “I punched the wall.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I just heard a noise,” she says. “I thought maybe you fell. Or dropped something.” 

 

“So that’s all you want to say. Oh.” Jeff isn’t sure why he’s feeling this sudden burst of irritation, but it’s happening. 

 

Annie frowns. “Jeff, I don’t know what you want from me. I mean, you’ve been skirting around what happened to you ever since you got back to work. I try to talk to you about it and you brush me off. So now, you’ve punched a wall in the White House, and I don’t know if you want me to be concerned or crack some joke with you.” 

 

She has a good point, Jeff notes. It’s not easy to deal with almost dying, and it’s not like Jeff has great intrapersonal skills in the first place. 

 

“Okay. Okay, so I’m not…handling this well. I’m big enough to admit that.”

 

“I think,” Annie starts, “you need to see someone. About this. Like a therapist.”

 

“You do, huh?”

 

She nods. “And not just Britta. I know she says she thought about majoring in psych, but she’s got a degree in communications.”

 

“Like I’d let Britta shrink my head,” Jeff quips. He can tell Annie’s worried from the furrow of her brow, and he really doesn’t want her worried about him.

 

“I’m serious.”

 

Resisting the urge to make some Airplane joke that she probably wouldn’t even _get,_ he nods. “I’ll look into it.”

 

“Good,” she says, and pats him on the shoulder before leaving his office. 

 

**&**

 

 

As it turns out, therapy is good. It gives him a good opportunity to work though stuff—a mostly foreign concept. The therapist refers him to a psychiatrist, who prescribes some anti-anxiety medication, which, as it turns out, does a lot of good. The Hawthorne presidency has been, dare he say, successful, and Jeff is pretty sure it has something to do with him.

 

The bid for reelection is about to get underway, even though Jeff swears to God they just did this, like, a month ago. 

 

“It’s been three years, Jeff,” Annie remind him one morning. “You knew this was coming.”

 

It’s been three years of dancing around Annie. Three years of probably being in love with his assistant, and three years since he’s kissed her, and three years since he’s been able to convince himself that the back-and-fourth thing he’s got going with her is anything other than shameless flirting. 

 

Anyone can see they care about each other. You don’t _not_ care about someone you work with for ten or more hours every day. But them, they’re different. Jeff’s reasonably certain that Shirley’s never said she loves Britta—high off her ass, or not. 

 

“Yeah,” he answers. “Three years is a long time. Feels short though.”

 

“Well, you’ve never been good with time management. Speaking of—“ Annie looks down at his calendar, “—you have a meeting with the President in ten.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

He walks the halls of the west wing quickly, not looking at anything but the floor in front of him. Leonard waves him into the Oval, and Jeff swears to God it will never not be intimidating, talking to the President of the United States in the Oval Office. The bully pulpit effect, he remembers from high school government. 

 

“Jeffery,” the President greets, and leads them to sit down.

 

“Mister President, what did you want to talk about?”

 

“How’s therapy going?”

 

Jeff pauses. “Um. Fine? It’s helping, I think. But, sir, I know you didn’t ask me to meet with you just to talk about my mental health.”

 

“Fine. I have an announcement, and I wanted to tell you first.”

 

The last time Jeff got a personal announcement, it wasn’t good. He braces himself for the worst, entire body tensed, and nods. 

 

“Jeffery, I’m not running for reelection.”

 

Okay, there’s no way in the world Jeff heard that right. “You’re not…” he trails, suddenly seeing spots. 

 

“Before you get your boxers in a bunch, I want to tell you that I already have a candidate picked out to replace me.”

 

“Mister President, that’s not how elections…we worked so _hard,_ and you’re just going to—How can you quit?” Jeff stands from his chair and begins pacing. 

 

“Jeff, I’m not _quitting._ The fact is, I’m getting pretty old. Could I do the job again? Yes. But could I do it as well as you? I don’t really think so.”

 

“But the people voted for you, sir! I’m sure they will—Excuse me?”

 

“I think you heard me, Winger.”

 

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t. Because if I did, you’re suggesting…and you wouldn’t.” He’s rooted in one spot and shaking his head and trying really hard to see past the big spots in his eyes.

 

The President stands. “I want you to run. You’re ready.”

 

“But you didn’t even name me Chief of Staff. And don’t you think Alan’s going to want to run?”

 

“Oh, I’m sure he will. But you can beat him. Especially with that little lady on your side.”

 

“Annie?” Jeff asks, jaw slack.

 

“I bet Miss Edison would make an excellent campaign manager, Jeff. Think about it. Give me your answer tomorrow. And you know what?” the President adds, “I made a mistake appointing Rich over you.”

 

He’s being ushered out of the room before he can say another world, and holy shit. The walk back to his office is a blur. Troy tries to ask him a question about some speech or another, and Jeff can only say, “Ask Abed. I have to…bye.”

 

When he opens the door to his office, Annie’s sitting in his chair, eating her lunch. She smiles up at him in between bites of sandwich. “How’d it go?” she asks, brushing crumbs from her fingers. 

 

“It went,” he answers, leaning against the doorframe. “Listen,” he asks, “can we talk tonight? Like maybe somewhere private?”

 

“Sure. But is everything okay?”

 

“Don’t know yet. I’ll let you know tonight,” he says, turning to leave. “Wait. My office. You leave.”

 

She pouts a little, but packs up her lunch and goes to her own cubicle anyway. “I’ll talk to you tonight, I guess.”

 

He has a _lot_ to think about.

 

**&**

 

“So what’s up?” Annie asks once they’re seated at the bar. She’s still got her work clothes on, but Jeff doesn’t mind a bit. Her skirt and jacket make her look older, in a good way. 

 

He doesn’t want to chicken out, so he just goes for it. “The President wants me to run next election. And he wants you to be my campaign manager. Slash Chief of Staff, I think.”

 

It’s out on the table, and Jeff’s beginning to get the impression that Annie wasn’t expecting this when she agreed to go out with him tonight. Her blue eyes are wider than he’s seen in a while, and her hand grips the edge of the bar tightly. 

 

“What?”

 

“That’s what I said,” he says. “What do you think?”

 

“I…I don’t know _what_ to think. I mean, I’m just your assistant. I don’t know how I could possibly take on that kind of position.”

 

“Annie, come on. You remember that pitch you gave me the day I walked into my storage room and saw you there?”

 

She nods, slowly. 

 

“That’s how you could possibly take on that kind of position.”

 

“So,” she starts, “if you think I can do it, why are you asking what I think?”

 

He takes a deep, uncharacteristic breath, and says, “I’m asking if you _want_ to. I’m asking if you think I, or we, could do this.”

 

“Jeff, of course I think you could do it! You’re talented at what you do, and you’ve already got political connections and good ideas!”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“I’m…thinking I’m going to run for president,” Jeff says, hardly able to believe the words he’s saying. “I’m going to need to up my dose of anxiety meds,” he adds, half-joking.

 

“You’re going to tell the President yes,” Annie says, a smile blooming on her face. It turns to a frown in the next second, when she’s biting her lip and turning away from him. 

 

“What? What is it?” he asks, hoping he hasn’t already ruined this new, precarious partnership.

 

She turns to face him again, wringing her hands. “You’re not just asking me because you…because we…because there are some non-platonic feelings involved in this,” she motions between them, “right?”

 

It’s the first time either one of them’s acknowledged their feelings, and it feels like a weight off Jeff’s shoulders and a heart attack all at once. 

 

“Annie, of course I didn’t. I mean, do I have non-platonic feelings for you? Well, yeah. But it’s not like I’m an animal who can’t keep it to myself. After all,” he pauses, “I’ve done a pretty good job the past three years.”

 

She gasps. “That long?”

 

“Roughly. Since the night we won.” The mention of that night has her blushing a little, her cheeks the perfect shade of pink. 

 

“Let me ask you something.” She continues when he gives a slight nod. “Can you go another four or even eight years?”

 

“Without…?”

 

“Doing something about it. The non-platonic feelings, I mean.”

 

“Well,” he starts, “who knows if I’d even win. And even if I did, I can’t think of a law that says an unmarried man can’t date whomever he wants. I did go to law school, after all.”

 

She’s looking up at him with those big Disney eyes, and he almost knows what she’s going to say next. 

 

“It would be inappropriate, Jeff.” 

 

“Maybe,” he says, “or maybe not. The bottom line is that I want you to work this campaign if it’s something you want to do. Regardless of whatever this is.”

 

“I want to. I think. No, I want to.” Annie rests her hand on his shoulder and then says, “Just so you know, we’re going to win.” She has that fire in her eyes again, and she’s got her ambitious face on, which is pretty much her standard face, but it looks extra determined right now. 

 

“So if you’re going to make me President, I guess I should do this now, ‘cause it might be my last chance.”

 

“Wha—?” He cuts her off by kissing her, long and slow, like he’s wanted to since the day after they won. They’re in the middle of a bar, and it’s probably not sanitary, but he doesn’t care. All that matters is him kissing Annie and her kissing him back. 

 

He pulls aways and she sighs. “If that was your way of congratulating me, I have a feeling I’ll like this campaign.”

 

“You know me, I can’t make anything completely serious,” he jokes, grinning at her. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he can tell she’s thinking, the gears in her head whirling a mile a minute. “What are you thinking about?”

 

“About how to arrange all of my pens in your desk drawer,” she admits, laughing a little.

 

It’s then Jeff decides that before he tells Rich to fuck off and that he won’t be needed this next election, he’ll say thank you. 


End file.
